Chapter 1

  'Lt.Commander Bela Grimizan'

  'Bela Grimizan' loitered quietly at the end of a narrow hallway. She listened intently to a group of young people just beyond. It may not have been the most graceful look for a Luietant Commander, but Bela did not care much for looks.

  The room beyond was the narrow mech hanger bay of the warship Mithril - a decade-old, retrofitted cruiser-class vessel belonging to 'The Independent Alliance of Free States', IAFS - so it was not surprising that the young people she was listening in on were all pilots.

  The hangar's walls were an impressive twenty metres tall, lined in metal plating and visible riveting all around the dusty surfaces. What stood out, with backs secured firmly into metal restraints, was six tall machines.

  Two were painted a light orange shade and known simply as the MBT-Mk2 - a general-purpose mech that was a little outdated. The other three were the impressive silhouettes of an IAFS in-house design: The Heavy-Duty-Vijaik-Beta, or more simply 'The Heavy' - a hulking machine of humanoid design like the MBT's, but with a thick overcoat of chunky armour all around and powerful metres-wide legs packed with thrusters.

  'A strange machine' - Bela thought to herself - 'Not often you get mechs where the cockpit is in the head rather than the torso.'

  One unit stood out from the rest for its deep red colour pallet (marking it clearly as a commander's customised machine) with an eccentric non-standard Calabar Blade in the shape of a greatsword resting to one side.

  On the other side stood a topic of discussion: the battered remains of a bright red 'Vijaik-Heavy'. Like the new Heavy, the classic mech was donned with bulky armour and strange weapons while painted in the same red and black colour scheme as the commander class Heavy-Vijaik-Beta beside it. After all, the modern machine had been named after the classic, making it an odd sight to see the two standing next to one another on the same warship.

  The aged machine also had a number of names painted carefully upon one side of its sweeping, rounded shoulder armour.

  "I don't get why we're carrying this old Abhailien-mech aboard; I mean, don't ya think it gives us the wrong sort of image?" A young woman called Siena said.

  "Captain is doin' it as a favour for the Lt.Commander. Apparently, it's her personal machine,” replied the somewhat stoic voice of a middle-aged woman with an old country accent and looks to match.

  "Personal machine? Ha, you don't buy that crap, do ya, Wiseman? Everyone knows the commander is an ex-Abhailen ace, the so-called 'Scarlet Scourge'," a gruff-voiced, well-built man added with a snide grin on his tanned face.

  "That's just a rumour, Guaran," a shorter man replied.

  Guaran scoffed, "Oh ya Zaied? I reckon it wouldn't be half bad if it's true. They say she was on the TSU's top priority list in the years after The First War as a 'pirate'. The 'Scourge' even took part in that whole Remembrance business a few years back."

  "You shouldn't mock the dead Guaran," Seina cut back in, poking a finger insinuatingly at her comrade.

  "Hey, I didn't do nothin' like that. Anyway, wasn't it you who asked in the first place?"

  Seina receded a little while the other woman, Wiseman, looked more contemplative; "You know, they used to say The Scourge was on the same level as Aces like ‘The Bane of Konpei' himself, but why would someone like that leave Remembrance to join IAFS?"

  "That would make her an Abhailen war criminal, no?" Zaied added grimly.

  Before the gossip got much more out of hand, Bela finally decided to inject. A somewhat older woman, her hair cut short and lazily dyed to be black - a prominent eye patch covering her right eye.

  For a shorter woman, she managed to seem imposing, holding herself with something of an intimidating posture, arms crossed sternly. The sound of metal on metal as she approached should have alerted the young group of pilots, and yet she had moved silently across the room;

  "That's enough yapping out of you kids," she said firmly, "and anyway, this 'Scarlet Scourge' you speak of was nowhere near the level of 'The Bane', and it does that man a great disrespect to suggest as such".

  "Oh-ho? So you at least know of her then, Commander?" Guaran grinned.

  "That's none of your business, Warrant Officer," 'Bela' replied with a sigh.

  Young Seina mustered the courage to speak up next, "My apologies, Ma'am, I didn't mean to be rude, but umm... I'm still wondering why you have an older, heavy mech-type here... And all those names written on its shoulder and - i-if that's ok to ask, I mean... Ah-ahem..."

  Observing how the other three seemed to share this curiosity, Bela sighed again; "Would hardly take a genius to work out I'm ex-Abhailien. I take it none of you have a problem with that?"

  The others were slightly taken aback by this admission, shuffling around awkwardly.

  "I'm not the only one either. Once we finally catch up with the Tradech-Flotilla, I'm sure you'll find this is an equal-opportunities organisation. As for the names," Bela uncharacteristically paused. The others, clearly feeling uneasy, looked to one another for someone to break the silence.

  Their short time together started only a few weeks ago when the 'Mithril' left a Bannerman port to rendezvous with IAFS's premier flagship, The Tradech. The intention was to resupply and escort that vessel going forward.

  However, complications had thrown the plan considerably off course. Now, the fourth of the month, they found themselves only nearing the nation-satellite 'Glas-Noa Ni' - a couple of days after the Tradech had already left (apparently having taken with it three impromptu stolen Casnels).

  All this meant the Mithril's crew and pilots had successfully missed what was now being called the ensuing incident of an inevitable war brewing between the factions of TSU-S and IAFS. This left the Mithril nothing to do but try to catch up with the Tradech before any more fighting could break out.

  "--The names are old comrades," Bela finally said.

  She followed this up by motioning through her pockets and retrieving a photo, haphazardly held up to the others.

  The picture wasn't of people but rather was a section of what looked to be a much bigger stone plaque or statue plinth - a long series of names littered said plinth, some matching up with the writing on the old-disused mecha's shoulder;

  " 'Fraid that's only some of 'em. It's a plaque from back home, supposedly 'in honour' of those who died in The First War. As for the rest of the names, well, they don't even have a plaque - only record of them left is likely what's on the Vijaik's shoulder; the Remembrance Incident doesn’t get classed as a real war, so not even any statues to honour its dead.”

  She finished grimly.

  The group of pilots looked downcast; even Guaran's earlier quippiest had worn off.

  "Keep this in mind, you lot, ya hear?" Bela continued, placing the photo back in her pocket with little fanfare, "Once it's over, that's it for the likes of us. If we lose, there'll be no parade. If you're really unlucky, there mightn't even be a record, understand? Don't end up like the names on that mech's sho-- The hell was that!?"

  Before Bela could finish her depressing cautionary tale, a bombastic explosion, followed by a loud creaking, echoed throughout the ship. Soon, the rapid screeching of a panicked battle alarm began to blare.

  ****

  'Bela' quickly made it to her machine’s cockpit, fiddling with the various dials and switches of the red Heavy-Vijaik, a machine well known for its bulky leg and torso armour.

  In front of her, she watched as the orange MBT Mk2s of her squad subordinates were jettisoned into space on the launch pad's narrow railway lines.

  "Don't go too far ahead, you two. Form a defence line around the ship until we know what we're up against."

  Their attackers were two ships of the same class as their own, seemingly belonging to the TSU-special fleet and presumably on their way to 'meet up' with the Tradech and its stolen weaponry. Before even the alarm could be sounded, the enemy had lobbed an initial volley of fire without warning, taking the Mithril unawares.

  Since then, they had fired no further shots. Instead, a series of dark green MBT-class mechs covered in spikes - known as the 'Ogre' - had begun filtering out of the enemy ship's hangar bays and taking an attack formation.

  Not taking any chances, Mithril's Captain, Commander Asoretset, ordered Bela's team to sortie defensively - so as not to give the enemy the idea that they'd won this encounter by default.

  'That woman's damn pride is gonna get the best of us; we'd be better off making a run for it,’ Bela contemplated as she waited her turn to launch.

  The other’s clear, Bela moved her machine onto the clunky shackles of the deck and braced at the force of the contraption flinging her forward. She soared out with just enough time to see what was unfolding:

  Having obeyed orders, Seina and Zaied moved to take a defensive stance, but before either had the time to complete that simplistic manoeuvre, a brilliant bolt of pink-hot light coursed through the sky, striking straight into Seina's MBT.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Her final words over the comms were eerily cut short just as Bela caught up, "Commander! I think there's a Casnel--".

  Seina was right, although she would never know this, as her mech burst into a fit of sparks and fire before exploding magnificently in an all-consuming ball of light before Bela’s eyes….

  ----

  She stared awestruck at her main monitor, watching the explosion for a few moments before her eyes were drawn to their perpetrator - a grey and black machine with tiny red and yellow highlights and the number '04' in white on its shoulder.

  From its generally humanoid appearance to its unmistakable facial features and sleek, almost reflective sloping surfaces, it was clear this was a true Casnel; a machine capable of killing any member of her team in a single momentary shot.

  With Guaran and Wiseman in the other two Heavy-Vijaiks launching behind her, Bela watched as wordlessly Zaied boosted his mech forward, gun raised towards the enemy machine.

  She could also hear the distinct voice of the bridge over her radio comms ordering a full retreat.

  'Too little too late.'

  "Zaied, don't be a fool; come back! That's an order!" Bela instructed over her commlink, but it was to little avail.

  The orange form of the MBT-Mk2 looked slim compared to its target of revenge. The elegant yet cruel figure of the jet black and grey Casnel imposingly making Zaied's mech look like little more than a bright plastic toy.

  Before Zaied could even get close, '04' lazily positioned its rifle and took aim. Zaied narrowly dodged the ensuing shot of lightning arcing across the black sky, his ill-equipped shield destroyed by the sheer heat of the blast. As he soared desperately to dodge the first beam, a second emanated from the enemy ship's direction, careering straight into Zaied's machine. Like Siena's it immediately exploded on impact, destroyed in such a brief instant.

  The source of the attack was a second black Casnel, marked '05' this time.

  The three Heavy-Vijaik pilots could do nothing but watch this grizzly scene. The second MBT-Mk2 destroyed so easily - two of their comrades slain just like that.

  The enemy had now seized firing, and its retinue of 'Ogres' began to slowly make their way over to the Mithril, weapons trained on the three remaining IAFS mechs.

  "Th-th- they-" Guaran spluttered over the short-range radio.

  "Why have they stopped shooting?" Wiseman cut in, an edge of fear to her voice.

  For a moment, the trio of machines held silently in the air, the faint buzzing of the radio operator on the ship's bridge still telling them to retreat. Without a word, Bela moved her Heavy-Vijaik over to Guaran's, grabbing his bazooka. Taking a deep breath, her mind suddenly filled with the familiar sensation of adrenaline, 'Bela' turned her machine to face the now encroaching Casnel 'Unit 04'.

  She reached into a small glove-box compartment within her cockpit with one hand. Pressing it open, she drew out a discoloured glass syringe and swapped her radio to broadcast to all her surviving allies.

  That done, she also flicked open a sealed section on her control panel and began disabling her machine's safety limiters, yanking cables one way before plugging them in somewhere new with deft keenness.

  With something akin to a wolf's grin on her face, Bela slammed the injection down hard into herself - at that moment, she would have looked unrecognisable to her comrades. Hers was not the face of a grieving leader but the ecstasy of a predator ready to hunt.

  "Negative bridge, no way you gonna’ escape like that, and like heck am I gonna let those bastards kill my subordinates so carelessly. We'll make the opening; you get the Mithril underway!"

  'Bela' bellowed into her mic before closing her link to the bridge entirely.

  "You two, concentrate your fire on the one with 'five' written on its shoulder, then go guard the ship, clear?"

  Not waiting for a response, the Lt.Commander and her red machine surged forward.

  ****

  Bela's Heavy-Vijaik moved ahead at an alarming rate, far higher than the regular speed for such a large machine, the G-force ever intensifying inside.

  As it did, she let loose two duos of rockets from the shoulder-mounted bazookas in unit 04's direction. Behind her, the other two members of the Mithril's mech team fired their weapons at Unit 05 as instructed.

  Both Casnels handily blocked the first set of impacts with their shields but the dust and spray of the attacks made it impossible for either to fire accurately on Bela's rapid approach.

  After firing a second time, Bela tossed aside the two launchers, the distance closing between her and her prey. Said enemies had not expected such a ferocious onslaught, as the second set of rockets carried straight past the already stricken shield and into the torso section of the machine, it in turn, tried to take aim at Bela.

  Of course, its Goibniu-dense armour held as though untouched, but the impact caused the mech to float backwards off balance. There was no time for Casnel-04 to right its footing, as through the massive cloud of bazooka shell debris came the red Heavy Vijaik.

  Making use of all her momentum, Bela pulled back hard on the control levers and threw the machine into something of a cartwheel. Its bulky left knee and leg collided into the Casnel in an almighty show of brute force.

  Despite this further impact, the Casnel pilot had finally regained their posture and raised an intimidating energy rifle in Bela's direction, firing a rapid slew of pale red attacks. Bela, however, was faster.

  Punching her unrestricted boosters all into reverse, she shot downwards underneath the enemy's line of fire. Then she surged forward as the Casnel desperately tried to track her blinding movements with its shots; it swung its arm in a shaky arc, desperate not to lose sight of the crimson blur Bela had become.

  Coming around behind the Casnel, Bela drew one of her machine's two arc-staffs and charged forward, holding the thin blade of plasma-cutter energy, moving at full throttle. The Casnel was fast and of much higher specifications - but its pilot, now thoroughly confused and disorientated, was no match for Bela's unorthodox style.

  Her sword-like weapon grazed across the already damaged chest armour of her target as it rapidly attempted to turn and face her. The strike didn't quite cause an explosion but was atleast enough to pierce some of enemies outer layer of armour.

  Bela’s arc-staff continued past into the Casnel's outstretched arm, slicing it and the riffle clean off. Through the ensuing explosion, Bela was also forced to release the weapon that her served so well, if only briefly. To her, it had been a sacrifice well worth it to disarm her opponent's powerful weapon.

  Unit 4's pilot, now desperate to turn things around, slammed on his own thruster pack, pushing his machine away from the rampaging Vijaik and attempting to fire its head-mounted machine guns - but Bela had other ideas.

  Before her swing against the Casnel's arm was even complete, she had already begun to accelerate forward. Keeping her mech's stocky head low, she moved in past the helpless line of cannon fire - effectively ducking beneath it despite the large size of her machine - and now reaching her left arm upwards, she grabbed the Casnel's solemn face in the Heavy-Vijaik's metal palm, Bela took her chance.

  The machine's hefty fingers groaned hideously under the unrestricted strain of force Bela compelled it to exert. One of the machine cannons on the Casnel's head was literally crushed helplessly in the process. The head unit of Unit 04 contracted, crumpling under Bela’s grasp; plating snapped, and fluids leaked out as the machine’s face cried out in agony.

  Of course, the face was not Bela’s true aim, as she pressed down against the two firing triggers to either side of her.

  While the Casnel pilot fumbled to grab another weapon with a remaining hand, the red-Vijaik's two massive machine guns obeyed their lady's heed, flipping over with a hefty 'clunk' to face directly and precisely at the Casnel's torso region. Where Bela had already hit with the bazookas, her well-timed kick and even with the arc-staff became her weapon’s focus.

  The rally of fire successfully penetrated the tiny gap her tirade had provided in the armour. The machine guns handily tore away at the enemy's centre, the mech convulsing with each impact, trembling and spasming but held firm by the face, not even allowed to collapse backwards.

  Before long, the cannons ran dry, and the Casnel's limbs drifted limply as the pilot inside, pulverised beyond recognition, drew his final breath. Bela gave one final thrust of her right arm to push the lifeless enemy machine away as it sparkled through space, floating lifelessly as red globules spread out for the jet black torso armour.

  Her breathing was laboured, and she stared momentarily down at her hands, watching them shake viscously. She began to feel the drawbacks of her earlier dosage, searching around the cockpits for another syringeful. Suddenly, her machine juddered violently, causing Bela to be slammed back into her seat and the range of needles to float aimlessly out of their container and across the cockpit.

  "Time for round two already, then?"

  Bela muttered almost jubilantly, grinning manically to herself.